


Shelter

by Shinybug



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23281549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinybug/pseuds/Shinybug
Summary: “How far do you want to take this?” Geralt asked, and bit at Jaskier’s lower lip.He was momentarily unable to speak, panting against Geralt’s mouth. “We’re,” he began, then had to clear his throat, “we’re standing in the dark, in the rain, next to your horse. I’m not sure how much farther we can go.”***Answer: A lot farther than that.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 93
Kudos: 1183





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is zero plot here, guys. Like, none. Just sex. It started as a scene in the middle of a different story, and evolved into...something else. I tried to insert some plot, but it was having none of it. So here's some smut to brighten your quarantine blues.

“Geralt?”

“Hmm.”

The breeze had kicked up just a little bit, and the clouds that blanketed the sky obscured any light from the moon. Their campfire, which was slowly dying, was the only source of illumination against the darkness. Jaskier shivered and fiddled with the edge of his blanket. “Are you sure there isn’t anything out to get us tonight? Some stray beast with a taste for human flesh?”

Geralt snorted softly. “No.”

“But how do you know for sure?”

He was silent for a moment. “Because I have ears,” he finally replied.

“Oh, right. Witcher senses and all that.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier settled back down on his bedroll, pillowing his head on his arm, and stared up at the cloud-laden night sky. The air had that certain sweet scent to it that hinted at summer rain. He sat up again.

“Geralt? Do you think it will rain?”

Geralt stirred but didn’t open his eyes. He took a deep breath through his nose. “Maybe.”

“Should we move under the trees?” Jaskier looked out into the darkness dubiously. He really couldn’t see past the edge of the firelight, and he had always preferred the open sky to the oppression of a forest, especially one too dark to see.

“Be my guest,” Geralt replied, but didn’t move.

Jaskier sighed and tucked under his blanket, which felt too thin. If Geralt wasn’t moving then neither would he.

“Good night, Geralt,” he said softly, drawing his lute under the edge of his blanket in case it did rain and holding it close for comfort.

Geralt said, “Go to sleep, Jaskier,” which was about as cordial as Jaskier had been expecting, so he smiled a little and closed his eyes.

***

It rained.

Jaskier woke at the first pattering drops of water on his face. The last of the warm coals of the fire were hissing from the rain as the sky opened up, sending smoke into the air. He scrambled up, barely conscious still, grabbing his bedroll and his lute. Geralt was moving at a much more even pace, calmly gathering his things and heading straight for an old oak with a dense canopy that Jaskier could barely make out in the dark.

He followed quickly and huddled against the gnarled trunk, checking his lute for water and not finding any. He sighed and tossed his other things down unceremoniously. The lute he wrapped in his blanket and propped carefully within the hollow of a root.

Geralt dropped his belongings and then returned to the rain to retrieve Roach, seemingly unconcerned about the downpour. Once the area under the tree was occupied by a horse, however, there was less room for himself and Geralt.

“We should have just made camp under this tree in the first place,” Jaskier complained, brushing water from his face. Some rain still made it through to the forest floor under their tree, but it was better than standing out in the open.

“You prefer open air,” Geralt said pragmatically.

“I prefer not to be rained on,” Jaskier said grumpily, though he was surprised that Geralt gave any particular thought to what he wanted as far as sleeping arrangements were concerned.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” Geralt’s voice was mild as he leaned his shoulder against the tree trunk next to Jaskier.

Despite being only a few inches taller than Jaskier he seemed to tower over him. Water dripped from the tendrils framing Geralt’s face, and Jaskier wanted to touch them. He didn’t, though. He was, however, helpless to stop from tipping his head back to meet Geralt’s gaze, inches from his own. Geralt watched him with an inscrutable expression, impossible to read in the dark.

“Cozy,” Jaskier commented in a hush, feeling Geralt’s warm breath on his cheek. He couldn’t remember Geralt ever voluntarily being this close to him before, unless some life-saving measures were under way.

“You could go around the other side of the tree.” Geralt’s tone held amusement, a sound rarely heard.

“Ah, but I believe it’s warmer on this side. I’d be a fool to give this up.”

Geralt nodded slowly. “Because Roach is here.”

“ _Also_ because Roach is here.” Jaskier was not entirely sure what was happening, but he knew that he wouldn’t be the one to back down first. He was just the right mixture of brave and foolish to try being cheeky with Geralt of Rivia and hope to come out the victor. It was the middle of the night, after all, and it was raining buckets, and Geralt was radiating heat like a small sun into the damp air.

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, a hum of agreement.

Jaskier shivered at the vibration, close enough to tickle his ear. A fat drop of water slipped through the leaves overhead and went straight down Jaskier’s collar, and he jumped involuntarily. Geralt steadied him with a hand on his shoulder and Jaskier regretted that the weight of his doublet obscured the feel of the touch.

It felt like _something_ was happening. Jaskier breathed in the salt-scent of Geralt’s sweat alongside the sweetness of the rain, and he knew that Geralt had been the one to step so close, not him. He swallowed and licked his lips, swaying slightly toward him without even meaning to, and Geralt took a slow, deep breath.

“Careful, bard,” he murmured, soft and low.

“Why?” Jaskier leaned forward again, just a little bit but on purpose this time, lulled by the sound of the rain and the lightness of Geralt’s silver hair against the dark of night, the only thing his eyes could really see with any clarity besides the flashing of Geralt’s eyes.

“Jaskier.” It sounded like a warning, which sent a mixed message since Geralt’s hand had moved up from his shoulder to skim across the nape of his neck.

“What?” He placed a careful hand on Geralt’s chest, feeling the slow and heavy heartbeat beneath the warmth of his skin. He explored like a blind man, tracing along the inside of the open vee of Geralt’s shirt, over chest hair and the chain of his medallion.

“I just want you to be sure.”

In his tone there was a wealth of emotion to unpack, layers and layers to sort through in the harsh light of day, but there in the cool darkness Jaskier cut through all of that by leaning up and catching Geralt’s mouth with his.

For such a hard man his lips were startlingly soft, velvety and blood-warm against Jaskier’s. There was no lag of surprise; Geralt kissed him back as though he’d been thinking about doing it for some time. His lips tasted of rainwater and the wine they’d shared over dinner and Jaskier wasted no time licking into Geralt’s mouth.

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispered, and _fuck_ , even his whispers caused vibrations. His arms came up, one to wrap around Jaskier’s waist to pull him closer, and the other to grip his neck and hold him still for a deeper kiss. There was a rumble of thunder far off in the distance and Jaskier went absolutely weak with sensation.

“Nngh,” Jaskier said as Geralt kissed down the line of his throat. “Oh gods, that’s…”

“Are you actually speechless? We haven’t even started.” Geralt sounded just a little bit breathless, which thrilled Jaskier to no end.

Still, he wasn’t truly speechless because when he should have kept his mouth shut he opened it and said, “But Geralt, why now?” He bit his tongue and cursed himself as soon as he said it.

“Why not now?” Geralt murmured, his mouth resting behind Jaskier’s ear. “Would you rather wait?”

“Don’t be an ass,” Jaskier moaned, just grateful that he hadn’t stopped. “I’ve _been_ waiting.”

“You should have asked,” said Geralt against his collarbone, biting softly.

“You should have said.” Jaskier slipped his fingers into Geralt’s hair and tugged much more gently than he had intended, more of an entreaty than a reproach.

Geralt pulled back to kiss him again, lips sliding and tongue stroking and better than Jaskier had ever dreamed. He had expected that Geralt might be a rough lover, not a cruel one but not naturally sensual either. Perhaps he should have given him more credit; Geralt battled monsters the way some people danced, gracefully and with purpose, and that’s how he was handling Jaskier now.

The rain kept falling and Jaskier’s head swam as Geralt’s hands slipped under the back of his doublet, gripping the fabric of his shirt, caressing the small of his back through the thin layer. He tipped back against the touch, encouraging more, and Geralt tugged the shirt from his breeches and splayed his hands across Jaskier’s bare skin. His fingers dipped inside the waistband and teased lower.

“How far do you want to take this?” Geralt asked, and bit at Jaskier’s lower lip.

He was momentarily unable to speak, panting against Geralt’s mouth. “We’re,” he began, then had to clear his throat, “we’re standing in the dark, in the rain, next to your horse. I’m not sure how much farther we can go.”

Geralt freed one of his hands and cupped Jaskier’s hardness through his breeches, and Jaskier was trapped between Geralt’s two hands, one in back and one in front, unable to rock forward. He groaned and pressed his forehead against Geralt’s.

“You’re killing me,” Jaskier rasped, trying not to come in his breeches.

“Not hardly,” Geralt replied, squeezing gently.

“Please, I need...Geralt please,” was all he could say, trying to catch Geralt’s mouth with his.

Geralt allowed the kiss for a moment and then pulled away, removing his hands entirely. Jaskier’s heart dropped and he reached for Geralt automatically before curling his fingers into fists. Had he gone too far?

Geralt stood very still, watching Jaskier’s face while he died a little bit inside, waiting. Then Geralt took to purposeful motion, grabbing a blanket and spreading it down between two large, raised roots at the base of the tree.

“Come here,” Geralt said, and Jaskier obeyed as if it was a command instead of a request. Geralt sat down and leaned back against the tree, gesturing to Jaskier. He hesitantly sat with his back to Geralt, whose thighs bracketed his, and dropped his head back to rest on that hard muscled shoulder.

Jaskier breathed, caught between relief and anticipation, throbbing in his breeches. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he rested them on Geralt’s raised knees. Geralt covered his hands with his own and tangled their fingers briefly, then let him go.

“Take yourself out.”

Jaskier bit his lip and unlaced his breeches, drawing his cock out into the cool night air.

“Touch yourself,” Geralt said, and his voice caught on the words.

Jaskier could feel Geralt hard against the small of his back through his breeches, and gasped out a wordless sound as he wrapped his hand around his own cock. He was hard enough to cut diamonds, so hard he ached with it, and he could feel Geralt watching him over his shoulder. He gave a few experimental strokes, gauging how much he could take and trying to think of mundane things until he was sure he wouldn’t go off like fireworks too soon to appreciate the pleasure.

“Do you do this on your own while thinking of me?” Geralt asked against Jaskier’s ear, rocking his hips once into Jaskier’s ass, perhaps involuntarily.

“Yes,” Jaskier replied, moaning, surprised at the realization that Geralt wasn’t completely silent during sex. His knees fell open at a touch from Geralt’s hand, and he spread himself wide, a wanton invitation.

Geralt took a shuddering breath and ran his hands down Jaskier’s thighs from knees to groin, cupping Jaskier’s balls gently with one hand and covering Jaskier’s hand with the other. He only touched Jaskier’s fingers, adding a subtle pressure as Jaskier stroked his cock. It was thrilling but not enough.

“Please,” Jaskier whispered, rolling his hips up and spreading even wider.

“What did you imagine?” Geralt sounded wrecked, his voice even rougher than usual.

“You, your hands. Fucking me with your fingers. I’d touch myself and imagine it was you.”

Geralt took a deep breath and gripped Jaskier’s hips hard, apparently trying to slow himself down. After a long, tense moment, he brought his hand up to Jaskier’s lips and pressed with two fingers until Jaskier opened up and sucked him in. Jaskier groaned when he realized what was happening and swirled his tongue around Geralt’s fingers, getting them nice and wet while he listened to Geralt’s uneven breathing in his ear.

Geralt pulled Jaskier back to lean harder against him and tip his hips up, then slipped his hand down into the front of Jaskier’s breeches and arrowed straight for his hole, pressing one finger inside, gently but without hesitation and Jaskier cried out, shaking with sharp pleasure.

“Like this?” Geralt asked, pressing deeper and biting at Jaskier’s jaw.

“More, I can take more,” he gasped, feeling his muscles flutter around Geralt’s finger.

“Not yet.”

“Yes, now.”

Geralt let out a breath like he’d been holding it underwater, and added the second finger. His hand was restricted by the breeches and the angle was wrong and too shallow, but the promise of it was enough for pleasure on the edge of pain to course through Jaskier’s body. Geralt was rocking against him and Jaskier stroked himself in the same rhythm.

“Are you close?” Geralt’s voice was nothing but a ragged whisper as he pressed kisses to Jaskier’s temple, thrusting gently with his fingers.

Jaskier nodded, gulping in air. “Can I come?”

Geralt huffed out something that was almost a laugh. “Do you need me to tell you?”

“No, but I think you might want to. You do, don’t you?”

“Come for me,” Geralt said, a murmured command as he twisted his fingers in as far as he could, and Jaskier spurted over their joined hands, his vision whiting out as he arched back. Fire radiated through his belly and his heartbeat was so hard and quick that he was afraid he might swoon. He used Geralt’s body to brace himself as he shook weakly in the aftermath. He barely registered Geralt’s hands pulling back and cleaning them both off with the edge of the blanket beneath them.

“What about you?” Jaskier panted.

He felt Geralt shake his head. “Don’t worry about me.”

Jaskier frowned, because he could feel Geralt trembling behind him, rock hard against him. “If you don’t come too then it’s not worth it, Geralt. Are you with me or not? I can _feel you_.”

He rolled back with his hips, dragging his ass against Geralt’s trapped cock, and Geralt groaned deeply. He wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s arms and torso and tightened until Jaskier couldn’t move at all.

“The things I want you to do to me,” Jaskier breathed, pushing against the hold just to see how far he could get. It was like being shackled, and Jaskier felt his cock trying to rise with interest.

“Godsdamnit, Jaskier.” Geralt pulled him back tighter. “I can’t do any of that here. I can wait.”

“You can use me like this,” Jaskier replied, trying to lean forward enough for Geralt to get a hand between them. Geralt seemed to understand and released him, unlacing himself in the few inches he had while Jaskier arched his back and stripped out of his doublet. He pulled up the back of his shirt and his breeches down as far as they would go.

He felt the hot brand of Geralt’s freed cock in the small of his back, and leaned forward until he felt it nudging against his bare ass. “Like this. Let me feel you.”

Geralt’s breath came harshly as he stroked himself with short, sharp motions against Jaskier’s skin. He slid his hand up the line of Jaskier’s spine, dragging up his shirt, and Jaskier felt naked even though he was still almost fully clothed.

“Gods,” Geralt groaned, thrusting harder. “You’re the most…”

Jaskier laughed brokenly. “I know I am.”

Geralt’s fingers flexed and traced bluntly down his spine. “You don’t know what I was going to say.”

Jaskier’s cock was half-hard again, and he considered stroking it and seeing how far he could go, but he decided he’d rather focus on Geralt instead. “I don’t care. I just want you to come for me.”

Geralt gasped and stilled, and Jaskier felt the throb of Geralt’s cock against his skin, warmth spreading and sliding down between his cheeks. He bent nearly double and sobbed with a feeling of pleasure that astonished him, that he could want something so much and not have realized the extent of it before.

He stayed that way for long minutes, waiting to lean back until Geralt had collected himself enough to clean them both up. Then he felt Geralt straightening both their clothing and he slowly sat up, tucking himself back into his breeches despite the echoes of sharp desire still lingering. Geralt drew him back to lean against his chest and they just rested for a while, breathing.

Eventually Geralt snagged the edge of his discarded cloak and pulled it over both of them. Jaskier finally registered that the rain had continued falling, and had slipped through the leaves to thoroughly dampen them both. He shivered until Geralt wrapped him in his arms, enclosing him in warmth.

“Sometimes I would see you watching me, and I’d be watching you too,” Jaskier said quietly, reaching back to touch Geralt’s cheek, his hair, then dropped his hand down to burrow under the cloak. “I just thought you didn’t want to risk anything. That you were fine with the way things were.”

“Hmm. I was until I wasn’t.” Geralt ran his hands down Jaskier’s arms all the way to the wrists, circling them with his fingers, not a sensual touch so much as an intimate one.

“So what changed?”

Jaskier could hear the smile in Geralt’s voice. “You were being so obnoxious as I was trying to go to sleep, and I realized I didn’t even care. I wanted you closer instead of farther away.”

“Deeply romantic,” Jaskier commented dryly. “I was expecting that it was my ass or my gorgeous face that finally tipped you over the edge into uncontrollable desire.”

Geralt shook his head. “Nothing so common. I’ve been resisting your ass since the day we met. It’s the rest of you that I can’t ignore anymore.”

Jaskier swallowed hard. “I suppose that is romantic after all, then.”

“If you need to believe that, I won’t persuade you otherwise,” Geralt said, but he tipped Jaskier sideways in his arms and leaned in for a long and searching kiss, like a hero in a ballad.


	2. Chapter 2

“Where’s the nearest inn?” Jaskier asked when they broke for air. “Seriously, we can’t do this on the ground anymore. I need a bed and a warm fire and a bottle of oil, and at least ten uninterrupted hours. Can you give me that?”

Geralt closed his eyes briefly as though he was trying for patience, or maybe self-control. “There’s a town a few hours ride from here.”

Jaskier grinned. “How far away is sunrise?”

“About an hour. I won’t take Roach out in the dark any earlier than that.”

“Geralt, I don’t even care if it’s still raining. As soon as there’s light, we’re leaving.” He disengaged himself from Geralt’s warmth and stood up on shaky legs. Geralt followed and reached out a hand to steady him.

“I just need to stretch,” Jaskier said, “and I need to kiss you properly.”

Geralt pulled his cloak over his shoulders and wrapped Jaskier inside its folds with him. Jaskier immediately felt warmth envelope him, both inside and out, when Geralt’s arms came around him. He felt sheltered from the storm, from the cold, from the loneliness he’d felt for so long even though Geralt had always been just a stone’s throw away. He felt desired. He dropped his head and rested his forehead on Geralt’s shoulder, breathing him in.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said quietly.

“Yes?”

There was silence for a while. Then, “Nothing. Just saying your name.”

Jaskier pulled back and looked him in the eye. It was still dark but there was just the tiniest bit of light in the east that was glowing through the clouds, and he could see Geralt a little more clearly now. He took Geralt’s face in his hands and kissed him, a brush of lips, gently clinging. A soft searching of tongues, slipping past barriers.

He could feel the heat rising between them again and gently broke off the kiss. “I’m so torn, Geralt. I want to wait for the inn, but we have a whole hour until it’s light enough to leave. How shall we pass the time?”

“Hmm,” Geralt said, pulling him in closer and leaning against the tree. “We’ll rest. Just like this. When we get to the inn I want you to be awake enough to remember what we do there.”

Jaskier shivered, though not with cold. He hid his burning face against Geralt’s neck. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”

Geralt’s arms tightened around him. “I am, if you are.”

Jaskier kissed his neck once in answer, then again for affirmation. He nibbled gently with his teeth just because he couldn’t help it, and Geralt hummed low in his throat. Jaskier felt the vibration against his lips.

“Stop now, or we’ll get going again and I don’t want to take you against this tree. You deserve better than that.”

Jaskier groaned a little bit, imagining, and Geralt shifted his weight, aligning his hips with Jaskier’s, who pushed forward in response. “Sorry, sorry,” he gasped, trying to reign himself in. “It’s just that part of me wants you to do that, inn be damned.”

Geralt took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re still vexing. Some things never change.” He sounded almost fond, so Jaskier didn’t take offense.

“You wouldn’t want me if I suddenly acted like a different person,” he pointed out, resting his chin on Geralt’s shoulder.

“Oh, I’d still want you.” He traced a line down Jaskier’s spine and rested his hand low on his back. “I would just be able to resist you better.”

“You love it when I’m vexing,” Jaskier said with a grin, then realized too late that he’d said ‘love’, which was a dangerous line to cross.

Geralt ignored it. “I’ve...grown used to it. Your insolence.”

“See, there’s the romance again. You do say the sweetest things, Geralt of Rivia.”

“And you still talk too much. Rest now.” He brushed his jaw against Jaskier’s temple and Jaskier closed his eyes.

Though they were standing, Jaskier drifted in and out of wakefulness, held securely by Geralt’s strong arms. He rested his hands on Geralt’s ribs, feeling his slow and steady breathing and matching that rhythm of breath in himself. 

When he felt Geralt nudge him he lifted his head, a little bleary, and saw that the sky had lightened and he could see the landscape again, that hazy blue of morning before the sun truly broke the horizon. The rain had stopped and the world glowed.

He could also see Geralt clearly for the first time, his golden eyes watchful and his hair catching that blue gleam. They stared at each other in the light of day and Jaskier waited for some kind of regret or discomfort to manifest itself on Geralt’s face. When none came he surged forward and kissed him, forcefully and with anticipation of more. After a startled moment Geralt came to life and kissed him back, allowing Jaskier to take control and touching his cheeks with such tenderness that Jaskier ached.

When he pulled away Geralt looked dazed, and it took a moment for him to steady himself.

“Let’s go,” Jaskier said firmly, turning away to gather up his things. He shrugged on his doublet, quickly rolled up his blanket, and hooked his lute over his shoulder with his satchel, immediately ready to go. 

Geralt shook his head and saw to his own things with his usual economy of motion. He took a few minutes to give Roach some grain and saddle her up, then they were leaving the safety of their oak tree and heading out into the world.

Geralt led Roach by the reins and Jaskier walked beside him, just as they had done countless times before, though now Jaskier was watching Geralt’s profile out of the corner of his eye, wanting to reach out but not giving in to the impulse.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said with a sigh.

“It’s just, can we walk faster?”

There was a slight tugging at the corner of Geralt’s mouth that wanted to be a smile. “We can ride together in a while, but I don’t want to tax Roach with the extra weight of both of us for very long. You’ll just have to be patient.”

“Patience has never been one of my virtues, Geralt,” he replied. “You may have noticed this.”

“Hmm. I may have taken note of that, yes.”

“Well, I will try to endure with dignity. I’ll just spend the time planning all the things I want you to do to me when we reach the inn. So please forgive if I sometimes gasp out your name, I am blessed with a vivid imagination.” He checked with a quick glance and Geralt had a long-suffering look on his face, and refused to look Jaskier’s way.

“My own patience is not infinite, Jaskier.”

“Excellent,” Jaskier said, grinning. “I sincerely hope not.”

After that they travelled silently, falling into the familiar companionship they had always had. Geralt was taciturn as usual, and Jaskier eventually swung his lute around to the front and hummed a bit while they walked, trying out some new ideas for songs and idly imagining what would happen when they reached the inn. He felt like he was standing on the precipice of something great, like the whole world was at his feet. It felt dangerously like love, like all the feelings he’d been bottling up for years were rising to the surface, and he was terrified and thrilled at the same time. 

Eventually Geralt mounted Roach and pulled Jaskier up behind him. Roach made a sound of disagreement but set off again with no further complaint. Jaskier, happy to be travelling a good deal faster, slid his arms around Geralt’s waist and did his level best not to drop them any lower and explore the area. He couldn’t help that his cock rubbed against Geralt’s ass the whole way. Geralt, for his part, said nothing about it.

At one point he moaned quietly into Geralt’s ear just to see what would happen, and Geralt stiffened in his arms. 

"Don't be a shit, Jaskier," he chided in a rough voice, and Jaskier grinned, hiding his face in Geralt’s neck. 

Jaskier nearly cried when they crested a hill and finally laid eyes on the town nestled in the valley below. It was a lovely, idyllic little town, but Jaskier couldn’t have cared even if it was little more than a group of ramshackle buildings as long as one of them was an inn with an available room.

“Have you been here before?” Jaskier asked, breaking a long silence between them.

Geralt nodded. “Years ago. And yes, there is an inn.”

He sounded so unaffected that Jaskier felt a hint of misgiving. Perhaps he had invested more in this than Geralt had, or maybe Geralt was having second thoughts. Before he could work himself into an emotional crisis however, Geralt covered Jaskier’s hand with his own where it rested on his waist, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Jaskier laid his cheek on Geralt’s shoulder and sighed.

The inn was a sturdy, attractive building with mullioned windows and a large common room, where Jaskier negotiated with the inkeep while Geralt was securing a place for Roach in the nearby stable. Jaskier took his belongings to their room, his heart beginning to race already as he opened the door.

There was a decently large bed, at least big enough for them both to fit. It had crossed Jaskier’s mind that they might end up at an inn with small beds, and that would have been heartbreaking. Jaskier noted that there was a bathtub in the corner and while he was pleased to see it, he was more pleased to find a bottle of lavender oil next to the available bath salts.

He snatched up that bottle and put it on the bedside table, and before he had time to do anything else the door was opening and Geralt was looming in the doorway, looking at him with golden eyes. Jaskier felt weak in the knees, caught like a moth by a candle.

“Hello,” he said foolishly, and blushed.

Geralt’s look softened and he closed the door behind him. “You look nervous.”

“Not nervous. Just...eager.” Jaskier smiled at him, wishing he knew where all his practiced charm had gone. He could seduce someone at twenty paces with a glance and one well-timed wink, but here he was simply staring at the object of his desire with a blank mind. All his plans he’d made on the road, all the things he’d like to do and to have done to him, all had evaporated like smoke.

All he wanted to do was kiss Geralt, and after he’d done that he’d like to kiss him some more, and some more.

Geralt set his bags down by the door and held out his hand for Jaskier, who found himself reeled in and kissed, delicately but with purpose. At the touch of Geralt’s tongue Jaskier made the tiniest sound in his throat that seemed to echo in the otherwise silent room. He opened his mouth and let Geralt in, welcoming his sweeping tongue and lips like velvet. He threaded his fingers through Geralt’s pale hair and made careful fists, holding on, desperate to keep him there, to keep kissing him.

“You’re so quiet,” Geralt said, pulling away just far enough to speak. “I’ve never known you to be so quiet.”

“I can’t talk and kiss you at the same time, and I’d rather kiss you, so.”

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, holding the back of Jaskier’s neck to keep him still, hovering over his mouth with the promise of a kiss. “You can moan, though. You can gasp. You can cry out.”

Jaskier nodded, and his lips caught on Geralt’s as he did. “Are you going to make me cry out?”

Geralt’s hand tightened on the nape of his neck and pulled him forward into a kiss so hard and deep that Jaskier was shocked senseless, unable to do anything but allow it. He trembled, startled into motion, and kissed Geralt back until he couldn’t remember who had started the kiss and didn’t care. Geralt turned them around and pushed Jaskier up against the door, not hard but strong enough for Jaskier to feel the impact and moan.

He held Jaskier there with the weight of his body, pinning him with one huge thigh between Jaskier’s, rocking insistently. Jaskier didn’t know when his cock had hardened, but it was definitely hard then as he rode Geralt’s thigh and tipped his head back, gasping, for Geralt’s mouth on his throat.

Jaskier was close, so close, and didn’t want to be, and he cried out when Geralt slipped a hand down between them and cupped him through his breeches, giving him one hard squeeze and then stepping away. Jaskier leaned against the door, panting. “You made me cry out,” he said, and it sounded accusatory even if he didn’t mean it that way.

“And moan, and gasp,” Geralt replied with apparent satisfaction. “If I can’t hear you, then I can’t trust anything. Be loud. Be honest.”

Jaskier took a few deep breaths. “Take me to bed. Give me more. Fuck me senseless. Is that honest enough?”

Geralt’s eyes seemed to flash, and his hands tightened into fists. “Come here,” he said, his voice like rocks scraping together. He backed up to the bed and Jaskier followed like he’d been tethered to Geralt, though they weren’t touching at all. “Take your clothes off.”

Jaskier went lightheaded for a moment, then shrugged off his doublet. When he stripped off his shirt his nipples hardened in the cool air, and Geralt noticed. His boots were next, and then he hesitated with his hands on the laces of his breeches. Geralt’s eyes narrowed and Jaskier hurried to comply.

Breeches and smallclothes fell to the floor and Jaskier stepped out of them, completely bared to Geralt’s gaze. His cock was flushed and hard, and Jaskier could feel his face heating up as Geralt slowly looked him over. He beckoned with a flick of his hand and Jaskier came close enough that his clothes brushed against Jaskier’s naked skin.

Geralt opened his mouth and then closed it again, and Jaskier was left to wonder what he might have said. He dragged the backs of his fingers down across Jaskier’s nipple and ribs, lingering on his belly and ending just short of his straining cock, and Jaskier gasped softly.

“I want to kiss you,” Jaskier whispered, and Geralt took him in his arms. This kiss was slow and shallow, a tease, a promise of more. Jaskier’s senses were all tuned to Geralt, the scent of him, the sound of his breathing, the feel of linen and leather against bare skin.

“I could kiss you forever,” Jaskier said, unthinking.

Geralt didn’t respond, but kissed him more deeply, making Jaskier’s head swim. Jaskier steadied himself by grasping Geralt’s wide shoulders, testing the muscles under his hands and feeling them flex as Geralt clutched him even closer, one hand on his shoulder and the other drifting down to the small of his back. One finger idly traced down near his cheeks, a hint of possibility. Jaskier’s cock responded, pulsing against Geralt’s breeches.

“Now you,” Jaskier said, raking his fingers down Geralt’s shirt. He tugged it free of Geralt’s breeches and pulled it over his head, and Geralt was pliant under his hands. He touched a scar near Geralt’s heart and pressed his mouth to it impulsively. Geralt gasped and cradled Jaskier’s head in his huge hand, keeping him there, so Jaskier ran his tongue along the seam of it, then teased the skin below it, moving down to Geralt’s hardened nipple. He flattened his tongue and then curled it, and Geralt grunted, flexing his hand.

Jaskier traced briefly along the line of his cock, then quickly unlaced his breeches. Geralt took over and stripped them off quickly, coming back to grasp at Jaskier, kissing him until Jaskier pulled away to gulp in air. Geralt’s face was flushed with color, his eyes dark with desire, his mouth kiss-reddened.

“What do you want?” Geralt said roughly. “What can I do to you?”

“Honestly,” Jaskier replied weakly, “you can do anything you like. I want it all. But first, I want you to lay me down in this bed and let me feel you.”

Geralt nodded jerkily, then gave him a gentle shove toward the bed.

“Your version of ‘lay me down’ is different from mine, but it’ll do,” Jaskier said, grinning as he climbed onto the bed and took a moment to appreciate the softness and being finally horizontal. Geralt followed him down, covering him carefully.

“There.” Jaskier took Geralt’s face in his hands and drew him down for a quick kiss. “Come on, down. I can take your weight, I’m not some wilting flower.”

Geralt lowered himself slowly, settling against Jaskier’s hips and tangling their legs together. He groaned softly and closed his eyes, and Jaskier took an experimental breath. He could still breathe, and Geralt’s weight pinning him to the bed was delicious. He shivered and bucked his hips up just a fraction of an inch, and Geralt hissed.

“Fuck,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“Yes,” Jaskier replied earnestly. “But first, this.” He freed one leg enough to pull it up alongside Geralt’s hip, and rolled up against him, encouraging a rhythm which Geralt immediately took to, and they moved together as one.

Geralt was close enough to kiss but he didn’t. He was just watching Jaskier’s face like he was memorizing it, and Jaskier squirmed under the scrutiny. He tipped his head back to suck in a breath and suddenly Geralt’s mouth was there on his throat and their rhythm sped up.

“Oh gods,” Jaskier whispered, letting his head fall to one side so that Geralt’s mouth could find just the right spot to test his teeth on.

When he couldn’t take any more he shoved at Geralt’s shoulders until he lifted up, and then made him move so that he was the one on his back and Jaskier could shimmy quickly down and take Geralt’s massive cock in his mouth before Geralt could even guess what was happening. Geralt shouted wordlessly in surprise, his hands going to Jaskier’s head and his hips bucking up involuntarily. Jaskier was ready for it and so pulled off briefly.

“No?” he asked coyly.

“Yes,” Geralt replied, rubbing his thumbs against Jaskier’s cheeks encouragingly.

Jaskier lowered his mouth again, applying every trick he’d ever learned to bring Geralt to the brink and then let him back down again. He repeated the cycle until Geralt was shaking under him, clearly at the edge of his patience. Jaskier lifted off and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, still working Geralt’s cock slowly with his fist, spreading the wetness with his thumb across the head of his cock. He looked down across miles of bronzed skin, shining with sweat and bunched with tension, up to Geralt’s face.

Geralt looked absolutely wrecked when Jaskier grabbed the bottle of lavender oil on the bedside table and pressed it into his hand. “Now this,” Jaskier instructed, then added, “please,” when he realized it sounded too much like an order.

“This way,” Geralt murmured, arranging Jaskier next to him and lifting his leg to grip around Geralt’s hip. The stretch was considerable, and Jaskier could feel himself spread open, bared to Geralt’s oiled fingers. Geralt watched him closely and Jaskier trembled in anticipation. 

Geralt stroked gently between his cheeks, skimming over his hole with a light touch that sent shivers up Jaskier’s spine. He gasped out a desperate sound when Geralt’s finger finally stopped at its destination and entered more slowly than Jaskier would have thought possible. 

All his conquests, and none had matched this one for trust and intimacy.

“Alright?” Geralt asked, still watching his face for every expression.

Jaskier nodded, leaning in for a kiss as Geralt explored further, his palm pressing against Jaskier’s ass with every thrust forward. Jaskier couldn’t breathe for the pleasure, a dragging kiss across his lips and two fingers, then three holding him open, pumping with increasing speed and pressure.

“Please, please,” was all he could say, rocking into the thrusts and clenching around Geralt’s fingers.

Geralt looked into his eyes, so close Jaskier could feel his panting breaths, so intimate that Jaskier ached with it. “Are you ready?”

“Geralt, I’ve been ready for years.” He couldn’t even feel any embarrassment at the confession, he was so stripped bare of any emotional fortifications. It seemed to be the right thing to say after all, as Geralt kissed him hard, again and again, biting at his mouth while he pulled his fingers out. 

“Like this,” he ground out, his voice so deep that Jaskier felt the vibration in his lips where they barely brushed his. “I want to see you.” Geralt maneuvered Jaskier onto his back and thrust the pillow under his hips, his legs braced around Geralt’s hips while Geralt slicked his cock with oil. He spread Jaskier wide and lifted his thighs to just the right angle for his cock to nudge bluntly against his hole.

Geralt went slowly, rocking so gently that Jaskier barely felt the stretch until Geralt was nearly inside him, then it was sharp pleasure in a rush that made him lightheaded. When Geralt finally thrust all the way it was like a revelation, like Jaskier had never done this before, like his whole body was brand new to ecstasy.

He gasped out Geralt’s name and was answered by a deep thrust that pushed him up the bed. He reached back and braced against the wall, pressing back as hard as he could. Geralt loomed over him, gripping his thighs, chest heaving and lips parted, silver hair hanging tousled around his face. Jaskier had never seen anything so beautiful, but couldn’t find the words to express it, so he just traced one hand up Geralt’s stomach and chest to touch his face, and Geralt leaned forward to press a kiss to his palm.

That was the moment that Jaskier accepted that he was in love. There wasn’t anything to be done for it, there was no fanfare in his heart, just acknowledgement that there would be no one else for him but Geralt, that he was done searching.

“I need more,” Jaskier moaned, desperate for something he couldn’t define, gripping Geralt’s forearms which felt hard as steel with effort. He moved to touch his cock, but Geralt batted his hand away and closed his hand around it himself. His fingers were still a little slick with oil and it was just enough for the perfect mix of slide and friction.

“I’m not going to last,” Jaskier warned him, both reaching for and trying to hold off the end. “I don’t want to stop.”

Geralt never faltered in his motion, but gave Jaskier a half smile. “You asked for an uninterrupted ten hours, didn’t you? I’m not nearly done with you yet.” His voice was steady but labored, low and reassuring.

Jaskier groaned loudly, unashamed of it, shoving back into Geralt’s hips and up into his fist, dragging himself into a new rhythm that Geralt followed perfectly. Jaskier felt the bright burn calling him and he bit his lip, chasing it. Geralt reached down to rub his thumb across Jaskier’s lip, rescuing it, and Jaskier drew his thumb into his mouth, sucking and setting his teeth into it. Geralt growled and tightened his fist on Jaskier’s cock, snapping his hips harder until Jaskier arched back, crying out his pleasure as Geralt stilled suddenly to pulse deep inside him.

His vision sparkled behind his closed eyes and he opened them, dazed, to see Geralt with his head hanging down, hair falling over his shoulders, heaving deep breaths like a bellows. Jaskier felt prickling in his entire body as he slowly relaxed every muscle, aching as Geralt carefully pulled out.

Geralt slowly climbed off the bed and found a cloth to clean them up. He was as gentle with Jaskier as one would be with a fragile porcelain cup, and while Jaskier knew it wasn’t necessary he was touched all the same.

“Are you alright?” he asked Geralt, watching his face, trying to meet his eyes.

“I’m….I don’t know what I am,” he confessed, lying down next to him and resting on one arm, palm to his head and face close to Jaskier’s. His hair was a waving mess and Jaskier reached up to smooth it back. Geralt closed his eyes and hummed, a quietly pleased sound.

“Can I kiss you?”

Geralt opened his eyes and gazed into Jaskier’s. “I think...you can always kiss me.”

Jaskier stared at him for a moment and then smiled, a quick flash before he leaned up and caught Geralt’s mouth with his. Geralt opened up for Jaskier’s tongue, receptive and warm. 

“I’ve never done this before,” Geralt confessed when he pulled away.

“What, kissed someone?” Jaskier asked cheekily.

Geralt shook his head. “Not the way I kiss you.”

Jaskier’s smile slowly faded, and he took Geralt’s face in his hands. “Show me,” he whispered.

Geralt leaned down and brushed his mouth against Jaskier’s softly, gentle as rain, covering and protective in the complete locking of lips on lips, the careful sweep of his tongue, tasting, unrelenting.

“I’ve never been kissed like that,” Jaskier murmured when he was done, tracing the scar on Geralt’s cheekbone, the shape of his reddened mouth.

“I should hope not,” Geralt said, just a thread of insecurity in his voice that squeezed at Jaskier’s heart.

“Geralt, I think you know how much I…” Jaskier trailed off, unsure of how to say what he felt, or if he should say it at all. “How much I…”

“Hmm. I think I do.”

Jaskier nodded. “Well, good. That’s good. No reason to belabor the point then.”

“Now who’s the romantic?”

“Well. It’s possible that you just fucked me senseless.” Jaskier found the blanket that had fallen half off the bed during their exertions, and dragged it up and over both of them. He settled back down and shoved Geralt until he could rest his head on Geralt’s shoulder, then yawned. “I could use a bath, how about you?”

Geralt shook his head. “You’re going to need it more later. I told you I wasn’t done with you.”

Jaskier shivered. “I suppose you have some good ideas already.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, and the sound of his name on Geralt’s lips never failed to thrill him, “every time you aggravate me I think of new ways to occupy your mouth.”

“I’m fairly certain I aggravate you several times daily,” said Jaskier dubiously. “I certainly aspire to, anyway.”

“At least that much. So you can imagine how many plans I still have for you. We might need more than ten hours.” Geralt smoothed Jaskier’s hair out of his eyes.

“Luckily,” Jaskier said, his throat aching with the truth of it, “I’ve planned to give you all the hours I have. My gift to you, if you want it.”

Geralt smiled, a real smile with just the barest flash of teeth. “I accept your gift, and the challenge.”

Jaskier settled his head back down on Geralt’s shoulder and ran his fingers across his chest, tracing carefully around his medallion, reflecting on the fact that last night he’d gone to bed with a campfire between himself and Geralt. “When you decide to change the status quo you really go all in, Geralt. This is not a complaint, by the way.”

“I don’t do anything by half measures.” Geralt tightened his arm around Jaskier and heaved a great, contented sigh, closing his eyes. “Especially when it comes to you.”

Jaskier hid his smile against Geralt’s chest. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Sleep now, Jaskier. I’ll be waking you soon enough.”

“Why wait?”

“As I said before, I want you to be awake enough to remember what we do here.”

Jaskier felt warmth blooming in his stomach. “As though every moment isn’t already burned into my heart like a ballad.”

“One of your own, I’m sure.”

“Well, you are my greatest muse, after all.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Alright, come here then, bard. I’ll make you sing,” he murmured darkly, rising up to slide a heavy thigh across Jaskier’s legs, pinning him for a brief but searching kiss.

“You’re definitely the more romantic of the two of us,” Jaskier pointed out, weaving his fingers into Geralt’s hair.

“Shut up, Jaskier.”

“See? You say the sweetest things.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to write a second chapter! I appreciate all the comments and kudos, they make my heart happy!


End file.
